


Trust

by Sparrowhawke (LoathsomeSinner)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fisting, M/M, Orgasm Control, Safeword Use, Sub Drop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 06:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoathsomeSinner/pseuds/Sparrowhawke
Summary: Hart is given a little incentive to try something new.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EffingEden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/gifts).

“How long has it been, Hart?”

There was no doubt as to what Maynard was referring to, and looking into those dark eyes, Hart knew that the man knew _exactly_ how long it had been. He ran a hand through his hair in distracted exasperation. 

“Two weeks... And four days.”

It was hard to keep track sometimes, especially after the first few weeks. Maynard could be absolutely horrid, bringing him to the edge and keeping him there for hours. The days kind of blurred together when all he could think about was the pleasure and the frustration and _him_.

“Do you want to cum?”

Hart let his breath out in a soft whine, he knew the man well enough to know this was going to come at a price, but...

“_Yes_.”

Maynard's lips curled up in a hard smirk, and Hart gave another whine.

“I want to try something. If you don't want to do it, well. I'd like to see what state you're in by the end of the month, too.”

Hart's eyes narrowed, and he felt his pulse quicken. Whatever it was, he had a feeling it was going to be intense. Maynard wouldn't have given him a choice like that otherwise.

“.....What is it.”

“I want to see how much of this,” Maynard lifted his arm, hand tightened into a fist, “I can fit in _you_. And I want to see if you can cum from it.”

Hart's eyes widened, mind racing to imagine what it would be like. Maynard was small, but even still his hand and arm would be much larger than what he was used to. _Much_ larger.

He swallowed, his throat making an audible click. He was nervous, but _god_ he wanted to cum. And this man, this dangerous, passionate man, was the one he trusted most in this world. He would stop if it was too much, he always did, and though the thought of waiting even longer was horrible (and somehow wonderful) in its own right, he knew the threat of it wasn't being used to try and force him into it.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and felt himself melt a little inside at the self-satisfied smirk that Maynard gave him. He followed just as mutely as the man led him away, towards his bedroom. The bed was the most lavish thing in there, spacious and covered in expensive fabrics that were pleasing to the skin.

His heart was in his throat as he made his way to the bed, and he tensed a little as he was pushed on top of it. He was glad when the man crawled up on top of him, delaying the event a little longer, helping him to get into the mood by pushing their bodies together and claiming his mouth in a deep kiss. He wasn't sure he could have gone straight into it, it was still such a daunting thought.

But with how long he'd been denied, it didn't take him long to get in the mood. Maynard's body was rubbing against him in that maddening way, enough to get him hard, to get him worked up to the edge, but never enough to push him over it. How could he even _know_ how to toe the line so finely? And yet he always seemed to be able to find his own satisfaction that way. The bastard.

Hart shuddered deeply, groaning into the kiss, and he missed the invasion of Maynard's tongue in his mouth as he pulled away. He wanted to chase him, pull him back in, make him move enough to let him _cum_ but he knew that if he did it would be even longer before he was allowed.

He tensed again when Maynard moved for his pants, and the man paused above him. His eyes, the cold, hard eyes of a killer, softened for a moment, understanding without any words being spoken.

“Say your safeword, Kai.”

Hart let his breath out in a sigh, he hadn't even been aware he was holding it. “_Mercy_,” he whispered, feeling some of the tension bleed away. He was still daunted by what was about to happen, but at least with that, he'd been reminded that he could stop it if he needed to. 

Maynard smiled, and a moment later that softness left his eyes again. But it was there, hiding, if he looked hard enough. He didn't know how the man could have such focus through all of this, when he so routinely made him fall to pieces. But he knew the man was constantly watching him, constantly making sure he was ok - even when he wasn't, even when he was begging and crying Maynard somehow knew where the line was, making sure he didn't let himself cross it. 

The man moved off the bed slowly, hands expertly undoing his pants and tugging them down, tossing them aside. His underwear followed quickly, and then he was left, hard and exposed, as Maynard went to retrieve some lube.

He was certain the man could keep it closer, could keep it in his _pockets_ even. He was just as certain the man didn't on purpose, for moments like these. Even knowing these things he couldn't help but give Maynard what he must have wanted, giving a petulant whine of impatience.

The man's eyes held him as he came back, and he squirmed in place, torn between the urge to spread his legs wide open and close them tight. He was left to squirm for a few moments longer as Maynard slowly began to remove his shirt. 

He watched with anticipation as the man's skin was bared, showing a well built chest, old scars on his chest almost hidden in the curve of his muscles. The man threw his shirt aside, then approached, moving in between Hart's legs, pushing them open. 

“Pass me one of the pillows, Hart.”

Hart squirmed, not wanting to look away so he flailed an arm awkwardly up in the directions of the pillows. Maynard watched him with a mixture of amusement and impatience, but didn't say a word, not breaking eye contact with him. Eventually he managed to snag one, all but throwing it down at the smaller man in his excitement.

Maynard rolled his eyes, but placed the pillow on the floor between Hart's legs, sinking onto his knees there. Hart's breath caught again as Maynard poured out some lube onto his palm, far more than usual, and he remembered the enormity of what was about to happen.

He bit his lip as the man slathered it onto him, coating his entrance with it liberally. Maynard's eyes remained locked on his own, giving him an anchor, and he felt the man's other hand move to rest on his thigh, stroking it gently and reassuringly.

“Are you ready, Kai?”

Hart whined, how could he answer that? He wanted it and didn't, was ready and yet he wasn't sure he could ever be ready. But they would stay like that for too long if he didn't say something, Maynard's patience never seemed to end, so he nodded.

The first finger was fine. He was used to that much, it happened all the time. But even though the second was just as familiar he found himself tensing a bit more. Maynard worked him slowly, stretching him and keeping it from hurting, but that didn't stop his apprehension from rising. He knew it would soon move from the realm of familiar, and it terrified and excited him.

The third finger took a bit longer, and he knew it was because he was tensed. He tried, he really did, to relax, and he was infinitely glad for Maynard's patience with him. Glad that even though he was afraid, Maynard didn't just stop. If they stopped now he wasn't sure he'd ever work up the nerve again.

Maynard lingered for longer than he needed to after the third, by now usually he would be fucking him, and the dissonance made it hard to think. His body wanted _something_ more than this, and he wasn't even entirely sure he knew what that was at this point.

Slowly, the fourth finger pushed into him, and his breath hitched. There was a moment of hesitation, Maynard's eyes boring into him, before he continued. He wasn't using his safeword, was pushing it away from his tongue and gritting his teeth so he couldn't. The fact that he knew Maynard would see through it and stop on his own sooner or later was both reassuring and anxiety provoking. He wanted to do this, for him, why was this so hard?

Maynard's hand left his thigh, going for the bottle again, and as he saw him pouring more onto his hand, getting it up to his wrist, Hart's resolve broke.

“M-Mercy.”

Maynard's hands stopped moving the moment he stuttered out the word, and his fingers began to withdraw. Hart felt another surge of adrenaline at that, and he shook his head quickly.

“N-no, stop. Just...” He let out a shuddering sigh, frustrated with himself. “Just wait a little.”

Maynard gave him a reassuring smile, moving in to place a soft kiss against the skin of his thigh. The slight touch felt like fire, and it tingled even after his lips pulled away. “Tell me when you're ready.” And then he waited, his only movements the slow caress of his leg, sometimes moving to kiss him again, never so close that it would cause other problems.

Hart closed his eyes, just focusing on the feeling of the hand on his leg, the fingers inside of him. Slowly his panic began to fade, being overcome by his need, and he opened his eyes again, looking down at Maynard with renewed resolve.

“I'm ready.”

Maynard smiled at him, an expression of pride and love and _god_, he knew he would kill for that smile. He would topple whole empires if that was what it took. That thought helped lend to his resolve, and he didn't do anything but clench his jaw as he felt Maynard's thumb pushing at his entrance.

He closed his eyes and whimpered, but quickly found the tension rising again without the sight of Maynard's face, so he opened them once more. That look, that smile, and the overwhelmingly _full_ feeling became his entire world.

It was slow, almost torturously slow, but he could feel it when Maynard's hand sunk into him up to the wrist. He shuddered and moaned, his eyes unfocusing a little but still firmly locked on _him_. He could feel his mind heading towards that state that only Maynard could bring. It had scared him the first time it had happened, almost as much as this did now. 

But he went into it gladly this time. It was a relief to give himself over to him, to let his conscious mind slip away and live only in this moment. He could feel every movement as Maynard carefully moved his fingers into a fist, then pushed in further.

Maynard began to fuck him with his arm, a slow rhythmic movement that pushed a little deeper in every time. He was taken by complete surprise, somehow, when he felt Maynard's other hand on his cock. He had seen it coming, in the corner of his eye, but the pleasure mixing with what was happening elsewhere was almost too much.

He whined, some part of his mind, almost close to _instinct_ now, with how well Maynard had trained him, struggled against cumming just from that light touch. He saw Maynard's lips turn up in a smirk and it was even harder. 

“You can cum when you're ready, Kai.”

Not a command, still letting him _choose_, and for a moment Hart managed to put enough thought together to consider holding back a little longer. But then he felt Maynard _move_ again and at the same time _saw_ him through the flesh of his stomach, a slight bulge in his skin. Any thoughts he had were lost in the blink of an eye.

He cried out as he came, his hips bucking slightly, though the arm inside him kept him from moving as much as his body wanted. He could feel cool tears running down his cheeks, and he was sure that he was still making noise, perhaps sobbing, perhaps begging, but it was lost in the explosion of pleasure. 

Two and a half weeks of not only denial, but being brought to the edge over and over. These moments were what made it worth it, the pleasure that couldn't be matched by anything else.

His body came back down from the high, but he wasn't sure his mind had. Mercifully, Maynard didn't move for a while, just kept kissing his leg, running his free hand along his thigh. He could hear the man talking, and from the tone he knew it was praise, but for the moment the details of the words evaded him.

The man took care, was as slow as he could be when he started to pull out, but it was still almost too much. Hart found himself giving soft, hitched sobs and gasps as Maynard pulled out of him, and he felt so _empty_ when he was finally gone.

There were a few brief moments as Maynard cleaned his arm off where there was no touch, and Hart wasn't quite sure if he was glad or disappointed. 

The warmth and the comfort of Maynard's body against him as he crawled into the bed beside him helped to center him, though it would be some time before he could speak, or even think clearly again.


End file.
